For proper poetic effect, I suppose my date of birth should have led to a life of deep involvement in politics, but the truth is that I wasn't really. Oh, I voted regularly (and attempted to educate myself on the issues first before doing so), but that was basically it. Frankly, I was completely unaware that there was anything else to be done. And as I grew increasingly sickened and disgusted by the face of politics and the actions of the government, I doubt I'd have wanted to even if I'd known.
And then things changed, as they tend to do in life.
(This is my first diary. Apologies in advance for any mistakes. Continued behind the fold...)
As far as I know, that one Election Day when she was busy giving birth to me was the only Presidential election for which my mother did not go vote. (Admittedly I may be biased here, but I'm inclined not to hassle her for that too much.) My parents were pretty liberal, but usually didn't actually talk about it with us kids. My father would discuss it more than my mother; he admitted once that he'd have dodged the draft for Vietnam, except he didn't have to because his eyesight was so bad the military wouldn't take him anyway. He claimed he was present at the rally where the phrase "male chauvinist pig" originated. He was the one who made sure to educate his kids that racism and discrimination still existed and we were lucky by society's lights to have been born white. He didn't tell us what to do about any of the things he told us. He figured we were smart enough to figure it out for ourselves.
Once I got old enough, I voted Democrat. But I didn't pay all that much attention beyond that. The 2000 election merely annoyed me, but I wasn't particularly wound up about it; besides, I had more pressing problems, like health issues and trying to make enough money to eat on a string of part-time, minimum-wage, worker-abusive jobs. Then, well... 9/11 happened. I was in upstate New York at the time. I had people breaking down on me all day long, wondering if their friends and relatives were okay. I myself had friends who I knew were potentially in harm's way. I was crying at work on 9/12 when my aggressively Republican manager said brightly, "You look depressed!" When I stared at her numbly and said "Well... I guess I am," she responded with a completely careless, "Well cheer up, it wasn't a big deal!"
On that day, I am sad to say, I first knew true hate for someone on the other end of the political spectrum.
It only got worse. As the offenses mounted, as even a friend who considered herself a good Christian responded with a complete lack of compassion when I was outraged (her entire argument seemed to stem from "Well, it's not going to happen to you, so why do you care?"), my fury only grew. I seethed at the injustices I saw, and felt I could do nothing about. I cursed at the news and finally snapped at my friend that she'd been brainwashed by propaganda, and she said the same to me. (I'm not proud of that conversation - for reference, telling someone that they're brainwashed is not exactly the best way to make friends and influence people, as the old saying goes.) I staked all my hopes on the 2004 election. Obviously, I was disappointed.
More that disappointed, I was crushed. I spent my birthday that year crying my eyes out, only to be told by an acquaintance on the "winning side" to lighten up - after all, it was just politics. The smugness and condescension in her cheery delivery filled me with even more disgust than I'd ever felt before. I've refused to communicate with her ever since. I finally decided that I couldn't deal with it anymore, that to preserve my sanity I was just going to have to live in ignorance as much as possible. When the next election came up, I'd vote, but until then I wouldn't care. I couldn't care. I couldn't stand to be hurt again.
But of course, it doesn't just go away. My brother lost his health insurance but not his medical problems. My parents are in serious danger of drowning in bills. I developed more and more medical problems of my own, with doctors less and less willing to pay attention to me. Though right now I'm lucky, I know all too well how easily that can change and it terrifies me to know that I don't think I can make it on my own, without outside support. And I don't think it'll be there if a personal disaster should strike.
I heard good things about Obama this year, but I didn't look. I was afraid to, I suppose. Afraid to see promise, afraid to hope. It didn't matter anyway, I figured. Of course I'd be voting Democrat. There was absolutely no way I'd be voting Republican, no matter who they coughed up to run. Even my husband was sick of the Republican party, and he'd registered R when we moved, although he never ended up voting for the Republican candidates. (This is the first year he's muttered, "Gotta change that registration.") But finally, I reluctantly decided it was time to start doing research. I wanted to be informed when it came time to vote, after all.
Among other sites on my first search, I found Daily Kos. I was stunned, and then I was hooked. I never knew that things like canvassing existed. I saw stories of change, hope, personal determination and inspiration. I stopped feeling hateful. I realized that I'd never before really voted for a candidate, I was really voting against the other guy. Obama gave me someone to vote for, and Kossacks found me videos and links and stories that showed me why. And that not only was I not the only one to feel this way, but that it was possible to do more to make it happen. I can't canvass or phonebank because of my medical problems (luckily, I live in a blue state...), but I am proud to say that my husband and I donated, for the first time ever to a political campaign.
This year is different.
So I suppose, Kossacks, that this is mostly a very long-winded thank you. I wanted to put this out there because, while Obama is the focus around which this movement turns, part of the point is that we are all important, and your stories have proven in some ways even more uplifting and inspiring to me than Obama's words. I am thankful for all of you, and all your efforts, especially for doing the things I can't. I'm letting go of fear and daring to feel hope, and it's amazing how you never realize what you've been missing until you have it. Don't forget that it isn't all Obama that makes this moment in history special. It's you, too. So thanks to you, Kossacks, this November I really do believe...
...that Yes We Can.